


Causes and their Effects

by generic_cruiser



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, fluff with a hint of emotional shit, i really like this one actually, mentions of Bahrain, mentions of emotional trauma, no I did not post this at like 2am shh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-16 07:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29078283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generic_cruiser/pseuds/generic_cruiser
Summary: May, Coulson and Skye's interpretations of one single moment.An addition of sorts to my fic "Actions Speak Louder than Words," set between s1 and s2
Relationships: Phil Coulson & Melinda May & Skye | Daisy Johnson, Phil Coulson/Melinda May
Kudos: 21





	Causes and their Effects

**Author's Note:**

> My last Philinda fic was of three separate moments in the three different POVs, so I decided to switch it up and have one moment in each perspective. Sort of like a character analysis but slightly more fun to write. 
> 
> Also decided to add some Bahrain moments because character development.

Fight training was actually kind of soothing when Skye wasn't getting lectured by May. Not that she wasn't a great teacher, but it was nice to take a break from Skye getting her ass kicked and just punch something. Apparently just punching a bag didn't come without reprimands either, though. It wasn't anything big most of the time, just May muttering helpful suggestions everyone once in a while.

_"That punch needs to land higher."_

_"Next time you try that kick, stand further back."_

_"Keep your knees bent."_

Skye found that more often than not, she was listening for May's gentle words, for helpful tricks to store away. 

This was not one of those times. 

"Skye, it's not that hard, just twist around and bring your foot up _here._ " May grabbed the bag, pushing Skye away, then demonstrating the move perfectly. 

Skye groaned. "I'm doing that."

"No, you've got to kick with this part of your foot." 

"I swear I'm doing that."

May ground her teeth. "No, you're not." She demonstrated again, the top of her foot slamming into the marked spot on the punching bag. Skye groaned again, rolling her eyes and moving away from the bag as May crossed her arms. 

They had lots of moments like these since Skye began training to be a field agent. Lots of times where she just fucked up and then got tired of fucking up and then took a break. It would be incredibly frustrating most of the time, although May was getting better at coaxing her back into training. Sometimes those moments would halt training all day, and they would move onto something else; coding, weapons training, espionage practice. Other times they would move on to a different fighting skill, or just sit and talk. 

"This fucking sucks."

May sat down, and waited for Skye to join her. "What sucks?"

Skye waved her hand in the air. "Everything. I can kick something, but not today apparently."

"You can today, you've just messed up enough times for you to think you can't."

"So my fuck ups are just some psychology trick?" 

"Yes." Skye turned, not even bothering to hide her surprise. "Most fuck ups are psychology tricks."

"Who taught you that?"

A weird look passed over May's face, a sort of nostalgic look mixed with wistfulness. "Coulson." _Ah._

Skye let May sit for a moment, wallowing in memories. She had absolutely no idea what was going through her SO's mind, only that she didn't want to interrupt it. It was similar to the look Coulson got whenever he told stories about the academy, or even the years afterwards, before the Avengers became even an idea.

It was moments like those that made Skye question the nature of Coulson and May's relationship. Maybe not right then, but she was sure _something_ had happened between them at some point. Maybe at the academy, or when they were in the field together. Either that or there was some Fitzsimmons level pining going on. And May wasn't exactly disproving her theory.

"May..."

She blinked herself out of her daze. "Mhm? Yeah."

"Are we going to train now, or..?"

"Or what?"

Skye bit her lip. "Do you want me to leave you alone? You seemed, I don't know, content, I guess."

May raised her eyebrows, and seemingly snapped out of whatever daze she was in. "No, we're good. You ready to start again?"

Well then. "Yeah."

They resumed training, neither of them mentioning what had just happened. Which was helpful, considering Skye had  _ no idea _ what to say.

After an hour, Skye’s legs were sore enough for her to dramatically collapse onto the padded floor. Which she did, grinning when May bit back a laugh.

“How do you not just collapse all the fucking time?”

May plopped down next to her. “Practice. After a while you start to last longer and longer.”

“That sounds fun,” Skye replied dryly. “Got any psychology tricks for that?”

“Maybe.”

“Like, right now?”

“No.” Skye groaned.

~

In hindsight, snooping was probably a very dumb thing to do. It wasn’t exactly snooping, though. Observing. Yeah, Coulson was just observing. 

He watched as Skye grew increasingly frustrated with the move she was trying, until May got frustrated too. They sat down on a bench, and Coulson moved closer to hear their conversation. Just observing. 

"This fucking sucks." Coulson smirked.

"What sucks?"

Skye gestured in front of her. "Everything. I can kick something, but not today apparently."

May pursed her lips, and Phil could tell she wanted to laugh. "You can today, you've just messed up enough times for you to think you can't."

"So my fuck ups are just some psychology trick?" 

"Yes. Most fuck ups are psychology tricks.” 

"Who taught you that?"

"Coulson." May’s face softened into something Coulson hadn’t seen in a long time.

He straightened, trying to resist the urge to barge in. May and Skye had fallen silent, Skye staring at May oddly while the latter stared into space. Phil could distinctly remember the moment he had told her that: on the plane back from Bahrain. 

_ “I fucked up, Phil.” It was the first thing May had said since they boarded the plane, besides waving off various medics.  _

_ “You didn’t fuck up, you got the job done.” _

_ She sat up on the bed, looking at him with a pained expression. “She died. I got a little girl-” Her voice broke and she laid back down.  _

_ They were in one of the bunks, with the door shut for privacy. Coulson was sitting on the end of the bed, May’s feet in his lap.  _

_ “Y’know….most fuck ups are just in our heads,” he said hesitantly. A risky move, but he was willing to try anything. _

_ She sat up again, shifting to lean against the wall next to him. “Did you just fucking quote a psychology book at me?” _

_ “Yeah. Because it’s true, you’re the only one who thinks you fucked up, because it’s all in your head.” _

_ May hesitated. “I guess so.” She leaned her head on Coulson’s shoulder and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “I guess so,” she repeated. _

_ He leaned his head onto hers, their hands interlacing. May’s breathing slowed, and Phil smiled.  _

Coulson blinked himself from the memory in time to notice May and Skye returning to their training. He kept watching as May patiently led Skye through the kick she had been struggling with, no signs of what had just happened affecting either of them. 

He was surprised by how much that memory shook him. It made sense on a base level; that was one of the last times May had been herself before she transferred out. But it was hard to understand why it  _ bothered _ him so much. Maybe it was her face when she thought about it, or the softness of the memory, how Phil had felt when it happened. 

Or maybe it was what he had been sure May hadn’t told him about Bahrain, about what really happened in that building.

~

"Skye, it's not that hard, just twist around and bring your foot up here.” May demonstrated the kick again, mostly to make sure Skye understood, but also to get out some of her frustration on something other than the younger agent. 

Skye rolled her eyes. “I’m doing that.”

"No, you've got to kick with this part of your foot.” 

"I swear I'm doing that."

May felt her jaw clench on reflex, and tried to relax it. “No, you’re not.” She sighed as Skye moved away from the punching bag in defeat. 

It didn’t usually take Skye long to master a simple skill, but for some reason this one was getting to her. May didn’t get it, not really; fighting had almost always come easy for her, but she understood being frustrated about small things. 

“This fucking  _ sucks. _ ”

“What sucks?” She already knew most of the answer, but she sat down anyways. If Skye needed a break, that was fine. 

“Everything. I can kick something, but not today apparently." 

"You can today, you've just messed up enough times for you to think you can't,” May said matter-of-factly. It was the same thing her dad had said every time she felt similarly.

"So my fuck ups are just some psychology trick?" 

Something struck May’s memory. "Yes. Most fuck ups are psychology tricks.” 

"Who taught you that?"

There it was. "Coulson." 

“...Ah.” 

All of May’s memories of Bahrain had been effectively buried, a part of her incredibly healthy coping process. There were some that would resurface from time to time, most of them bad. But occasionally, a good one would come up, like the one she was just remembering. 

_ “Y’know….most fuck ups are just in our heads.” Coulson tapped her foot intermittently.  _

_ May sat up, her mouth open in slight shock. “Did you just fucking quote a psychology book at me?” Usually Coulson was articulate when he was comforting people, it was part of how impressive an agent he was. This was unlike him. _

_ “Yeah. Because it’s true, you’re the only one who thinks you fucked up, because it’s all in your head.” _

_ Oh. “I guess so,” she agreed, moving her head onto his shoulder and closing her eyes. It was a cop out; a way for her to avoid saying anything more.  _

_ Coulson was being genuine, but he didn’t know anything. His words were comforting, but they were so wrong that they almost had the opposite effect. It wasn’t some fuck up; Melinda May had killed a child. No psychological trick, just her rash decision having consequences. _

“May.”

“Mhm? Yeah.” Not her most articulate moment, but Skye had caught her with her walls down.

"Are we going to train now, or..?" Skye eyed May hesitantly. 

"Or what?"

"Do you want me to leave you alone? You seemed, I don't know, content, I guess."

May straightened, trying to shake herself out of the memory, and its accompanying emotions. "No, we're good. You ready to start again?"

"Yeah."

They went through the motions of the training, Skye not seeming to notice that May was hardly paying attention to what they were doing. She was trying not to get too far into her head; if one moment in Bahrain had resurfaced, there was a chance the rest would too.

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, thank you to anyone who reads my stuff, leaves kudos and/or comments.
> 
> Feedback and requests are welcome as always.


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